Inconsequential
by Brithna
Summary: Inconsequential (adjective) Not important or significant. Example:"they talked about inconsequential things" Synonyms: insignificant, unimportant, of little/no consequence, neither here nor there, incidental, inessential, nonessential, immaterial, irrelevant


**Full Summary:** This story takes place during S2:19 (Lifesigns) during which the doctor tries to save a Vidiian's life. If you remember during S1:E14 (Faces) B'Elanna was taken by the Vidiians and experimented on - which resulted in two B'Elanna characters. One fully Klingon. One fully Human. This story explores the aftermath and consequences of Kathryn bringing Denara Pel aboard the ship.

 **Chapter One**

Inconsequential. That's the word that really gets me. I'm a master at only being a partial participant in almost all conversations with the doctor but this one has my full attention-even if I've been utterly silent as he babbles on.

This is my entire fault. I brought Denara onto this ship. A Vidiian, sick, alone and far from her home. Could we all not relate in some fashion? Therefore, I let the emotion of pity rule the day, instead of blowing her little ship into dust-out of fear and anger. And now here I am; listening as the doctor tells me about how he needs B'Elanna to once again give a part of herself away. She is still having nightmares, yet he wants a piece of her brain.

As my father would say, "Jesus Christ in a Borg Cube… What a mess."

Of course, she's said no-throwing a chair on her way out, too. Which is why the doctor has interrupted my third cup of coffee of the day. He wants me to _order_ B'Elanna to report to sickbay immediately. The timing is critical. Synaptic pathways are degrading in a holobuffer and he must stop it before it's too late.

A little drilling.

A little extracting.

A little Phage resistant Klingon DNA.

 _Inconsequential?_

Before I completely blow up on him, I remind myself of the one small saving grace I _think_ I've got left to lean on - Kathryn Janeway does not order B'Elanna Torres to do a damn thing. In a weak moment, I might have taken pity on the Vidiian, Denara Pel, but that moment has passed. I will never allow the doctor to touch B'Elanna.

Never.

But no matter how hard I might wish it to be differently, I am only _Kathryn Janeway_ in the darkest moments when the nightmares come. I am only Kathryn Janeway when B'Elanna is curled in a ball in the bottom of her closet or on the cold tile floor of her shower. I am only Kathryn Janeway when she needs safety and reassurance.

I am the lowest of the low; a Starfleet Captain who has no right to make promises of such a safe existence that her private persona has no power to keep.

I am her captain, and within the best traditions of Starfleet, Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres should be ready and willing to do anything to save another's life.

Shit.

"Alright, Doctor." I raise my hand to stop him from continuing on and on. "I will speak with B'Elanna—"

"I'll need her to report to sickbay within the hour," he interrupts, holding true to his programming.

I lean in closer to the view-screen, as if this will make some difference. "I'll get her to sickbay – _if_ and when _she_ is ready. I make no promises… So be prepared to figure something else out. And while we're at it –I may as well inform you that this is _it_. This is the first and last time you will ever ask B'Elanna to do such a thing. I will not have her cut up every time you want to run off and save a Vidiian. Is that clear?"

I can tell he doesn't like my answer.

He can tell I don't give a damn.

"Very well, Captain. I will _hopefully_ await your arrival."

Before I say something I know I'll regret later, I end the call. And I sit, trying to figure out how to do this. I have only seen B'Elanna once since Denara arrived. She seemed calm, which gave me a little hope that the progress we've been making in the past year is truly going to stick this time. The previous night had obviously been uninterrupted by terror-filled dreams and she'd reported to the mess hall for breakfast. She seemed alright. But I caught enough of a look from her in the corridor to know that B'Elanna isn't entirely happy with me—and that was _before_ her visit to sickbay.

She'll be even less happy with me in about five minutes.

On the way to B'Elanna's quarters I can't help but groan at Tom's latest, horrible-yet, approved of-idea. Elevator music, as he calls it. I step into the turbolift and it immediately fills with the notes of a song I know all too well. He swears it never plays anything according to someone's specific mood-that he isn't that smart. Which is a lie. He is exactly that smart.

 _Do you know where your love is?_

 _Do you think that you lost it?_

 _You felt it so strong, but_

 _Nothing's turned out how you wanted…_

 _Well, bless my soul_

 _You're a lonely soul_

 _'Cause you won't let go_

 _Of anything you hold_

Yes, Tom Paris is goddamn genius.

And _nothing_ about B'Elanna Torres has ever been inconsequential to me.

 **Chapter Two**

What I find, is what I expected. Though I can see she's tried to hold it together-there is a plate of half eaten banana pancakes on the coffee table-B'Elanna's is in the shower, fully clothed, soaking wet. I know without a doubt the water is ice cold because how many times have I joined her? The doctor may have done an excellent job reintroducing her Klingon DNA into her human body but mentally, in private, she is terrified of her own shadow.

There is nothing else to do but what I always do, head straight into the shower and sit down beside her. I do not put my arm around her yet. That wild, wounded animal look in her eyes tells me that she is not ready yet. She is busy fighting fear, rage and memories of pain. Touching her now would probably be dangerous to my health. But thank God she's let me this far into the icy depths. Thank God she has not rejected my presence because besides never making it back home, that is what I continue to dread the most.

Being completely straight forward with her has always been my only way. To a point… So I lay this situation out as plain as I can; once I am thoroughly soaked and chilled to the bone, I truly begin this day.

"B'Elanna, you do not have to do this."

She's balled up within herself, knees drawn up to her chest, face buried in her hands. It's a wonder I hear her reply beneath the hidden parts of her and sound of cold water pouring over us.

"She'll die if I don't help her."

"So she'll die." I don't even come close to feeling guilty about saying this. "I shouldn't have brought her on board to begin with. Hang the rules. I will not ever force you to do this."

"Aren't you supposed to, _Captain_?"

She lays that part on thick because we both know I'm clearly mixing duty with the personal life I'm not even supposed to have.

For a while, I can only stare at the tile. What have I gotten myself into? I've become so involved. Too involved. Right from the start…

The Klingon B'Elanna, dying before my eyes on the transporter pad, gripping my hand, staring at me so intently; I _knew_ what she was trying to say but wouldn't allow herself to in the midst of her life's blood spilling out into nothingness.

I might have been an idiot, allowing Denara aboard this vessel, but I'm not an idiot all the time. I do have my brighter moments.

Meanwhile, the entirely human B'Elanna, shaken to the core, frightened by every feeling passing over her, admitted to some things later that day, sitting on the surgical bed, that I suspect she knew, later on, she'd never say again. Or ask for.

Until then, I never realized just how much Klingon DNA goes along in the way of keeping your mouth shut.

However, the human B'Elanna gripped both my hands so tightly, as if they were an anchor and told me of a childhood filled with such sadness, unacceptance, and years of wishing for this exact thing. To be human. For a forehead that did not hold such an honorable yet foreign and prejudice history to her. For a temper she could control. For the ability to think before she acted.

And it seemed in those few short hours without those particular obstacles in her way, even as fearful as she was, B'Elanna was brave enough to ask for two things before the doctor began the procedure I thought would surely kill her.

"Before I turn back into someone neither of us can stand," she'd started off, looking at our hands, but turned her face upward finally, and stared into my eyes with something that I could only interpret as longing. "Kiss me."

I hadn't had time to reply before she began to give me an out. A way to avoid such an embarrassing thing from happening between us… But I didn't hear a word she said.

I kissed her. Not a fellow crewmember, but B'Elanna Torres. I didn't even turn back to give a thought to the doctor who was possibly nearby. I just kissed her. Not on the cheek like a familiar acquaintance or on the forehead as if she was a child. And though I _knew_ I'd never shared a kiss like _this_ with Mark, I was certain right away that it was a lover's kiss. Deep, tender, a bit desperate. I remember clearly the feeling of her hands on my face and how she seemed to melt into my arms that had found their way around her, pulling her closer.

It ended with our smooth foreheads touching… And her second request.

"Don't ever let this happen to me again. Kill me, Kathryn. If they ever find me again… Kill me. Make me that promise. Please. I'm begging you."

 _Kill me_ , she'd said. Before the Vidiians had the chance to touch her again. And I'd said _yes_.

I agreed.

Yet, here I am today with a Vidiian in sickbay, and I'm sitting in this shower with B'Elanna, having unmistakably broken that agreement. That promise so agonizingly made.

We'd never spoke of either thing again. The kiss or the promise. Two days later, after the procedure was over, the only thing B'Elanna asked of me was, "Captain, you might have to teach me to breathe again."

In seconds of her eyes opening, even though she was in such pain, we'd gone back to being a captain and a crewmember. My heart broke. But I made that promise, too. And for a year I have been by her side each and every time she's needed me. For a year we have been learning to breathe again in the bottom of dark closets and on the frozen tiles of her shower.

She has not called me _Kathryn_ since that kiss… And I continually ask myself if she remembers it. And the promise I made.

To kill her, before I let anything like today happen.

I'm not in the Delta Quadrant. I am in Hell.

But reminiscing will do neither of us any good. Only honesty. No matter how much it might hurt me in the end, this will hurt far less than shooting her with a phaser or putting a knife through her chest.

"I'm not your captain, B'Elanna." I put an arm around her then without any thought to how she might not be ready for that yet. B'Elanna wordlessly sinks into my side instead of pushing me away because she's mentally buried in pain.

"You broke your promise to me."

The only reason I hear the words is because she says them right into my ear, sinking into my side even further. I pull my arm tighter around her shivering body while all the air leaves me.

She remembers. Maybe not the kiss-which shouldn't matter right now-but the promise to kill her. She remembers that.

The rational side of me kicks in due to the mounting desperation I feel. I might not be her captain but I can spin this. Somehow, I've _got_ to spin this into something that won't kill _me_. "Denara is no real threat to you, B'Elanna." I say. "She told you she knows about the experiment. You heard her promise to never speak of this to her people. I truly do not believe she would break her word. She's sincere. I believe her."

And that is true. I do believe the woman. As much as I hate to admit it, I believe her. She seems truly mortified by what happened to B'Elanna; not interested it telling her people of this chance encounter.

B'Elanna reaches above us and turns the hot water on. My body is thankful but my mind is still reeling, trying to find a way to fix this mess that will leave us both intact.

"But regardless of how I feel," I continue on as steam now feels the space around us. "You don't have to do this. The doctor knows that and so does Denara. Like I said before, hang Starfleet and their ethics. This is not about… Starfleet."

I take a quick, sharp breath because of what almost came out of my mouth. " _This is about how much I love you._ " That's what I almost said. That's what I really believe. That's why Mark's picture and the engagement ring I never wore were turned back into energy that's probably provided me with a thousand cups of coffee by now.

"She'll die if I don't help her."

B'Elanna's repeated statement from earlier has been said softly, a sad realization.

The next words that come out of my mouth aren't said softly or sadly or with any other emotion than the harsh truth of my feelings.

"I don't care, B'Elanna. How many times do I have to say this? I don't care. You come first. She can die. She _can_ die… You. _Can't_."

 **Chapter Three**

We definitely don't make it to sickbay in the hour the doctor has requested but we do in fact make it. Mind you, I don't know how I did it. But I did. Maybe it was my confession. Maybe it was the process of extracting myself from her, the hurt look in her eyes, only to be replaced by a breath of relief as I turned toward her in order to put both my arms around her. Maybe it was the long minutes we sat there in the swirls of warmth, with only the sounds of our heartbeats and the dripping water. Maybe it was the single shudder that ran through me as I forced back an onslaught of tears… And the feeling of B'Elanna's hand run up and down my back as I finally admitted that I'll never be able to kill her. We'll have to escape in a shuttle and hide forever before I'm able to do that.

But whatever it was, she was the one to stand up first this time. Not me. She was the one to get the towels; to replicate me a new uniform, and herself a set of pajamas. To make sure my pips were straight and my hair was dried and that I'd perfectly piled it on top of my head.

She was the one with strength enough to go out the door and lead me here.

The doctor's first thought-I can see the words before he has a chance to say them-is about our late timing. Hadn't I already told him I didn't give a crap about his timing?

His second thought-which does get out-is about B'Elanna's pajamas and the need for surgical garb.

I cut in right away.

"She hates that stuff and this was just replicated." I point to it, motioning up and down her figure. She's covered from the neck down in blue cotton tights and a matching long sleeve shirt. "If it's not sterile enough, that's just another thing you'll have to deal with today, Doctor."

Denara is the one to step between us before I decide to start making threats.

"I am sure it will be perfectly fine, Shmullus. The least she deserves is to be comfortable."

While I'm busy trying to figure out who the fuck Shmullus is, B'Elanna jumps up onto the surgical bed and makes two requests.

No matter how much help the doctor might need, B'Elanna doesn't want Denara around to watch. Kes will have to do. Secondly, they'll just have to work around _me_ because apparently I'm holding her hand the entire time.

Well, that settles that. I'm thankful I didn't have to ask or tell her.

I'm also thankful that Denara is the model of _understanding_ and disappears with one command to the computer.

Kes must remember how I spent two days by B'Elanna's side last time. She lowers the bed just a tiny bit and brings in a more comfortable chair for me instead of a stool.

Before I sit, though, B'Elanna and I are face-to-face again in a very familiar situation.

"I know this isn't supposed to take very long," B'Elanna begins with a half-smile on her face. "But if there's a red alert or something, you know you can go. It's okay."

"There won't be any," I state, with a hint of pride at my genius. "For your information, we're hidden behind a moon right now, that just so happens to have some pretty special effects. It emits a type of radiation that masks our signature. There will be no interruptions."

She nearly jumps straight off the bed. "But that could affect the engines and—"

I put a finger of her lips. And have a slight heart attack. It's the first time in a year that any part of me has touched her lips. I cover my emotions quickly with words. "It's fine. I checked all that earlier. Trust me. Trust me with _your_ ship. Just this once, please."

B'Elanna glares at me and my smart remark. This is instantly the most fun I've had in months. I am suddenly not worried about getting this crew home or even the procedure that is minutes away from happening. I am simply happy to be here with her in the worst of times. This horrible thing has been bringing us closer and closer together, though I've never even acknowledged that to myself until today.

It's obvious by the look on her face, we're about to become closer still.

"Just so long as you haven't fucked anything up." She glares again but also reaches out for my hands which I gladly give. "I know you think you're an engineer too; but it's _tinkering_ that you enjoy. And you know it. Not the hard stuff. One mention of cleaning up burnt out plasma relays and you disappear."

"Well, a captain's job is never done." I say, squeezing her hands, ready for more brutal words to be slung my way.

No brutal words come.

"But not today, right?"

She asks hesitantly because she knows me so well. We know each other so well. One sign of problems and whatever is going on emotionally is tossed aside. Surprisingly, she is far better at that than I. For all her difficulties, B'Elanna can flip a switch the moment the ship is in trouble. Even so, she's asking not necessarily out of the duty I must uphold, but for her own selfishness.

"Not today." I swear. "Even if something does happen and I have to carry you to an escape pod myself, I'm not leaving this room."

B'Elanna takes a deep breath inward and squares her shoulders, looking strong and confident. It makes my heart skip a beat.

"I wish I'd had more time to say what I really wanted to say while I was on Dreadnought."

What? I can't think properly for a moment. More time on Dreadnought? The damn thing almost killed her while she tried to detonate its' warhead. And she wanted to spend more time with it? Granted, the missile system was her creation of sorts, ending up in the Delta Quadrant through the very same means we did. So perhaps there was some nostalgia? Or something?

"I thought I was going to die," she says, interrupting my no doubt idiotic train of thought. "And there was so much I wanted to say. I was about to tell you that I lo—"

"We're ready to begin." The doctor comes in and I want to delete every line of coding in his program.

"Give us a moment, doctor." I pretty much bark at him; which isn't uncommon or surprising. He and Kes quickly walk away.

I immediately turn my full attention back to B'Elanna who is still gripping my hands.

"We'll finish that when you wake up, okay?" I plead not with my voice but with my eyes. I don't want to do that now. I don't want to hear that confession—as happy as it would make me—when she's about to go under. I want to hear it when I've got the chance to respond… In every way I want to.

My plea is met with a desperate tone I've never heard from B'Elanna. "But what if I don't remember?" She pulls at me until I'm right against her between her thighs. "It took me months to remember that you kissed me."

There is shame in her eyes, and I am as breathless as ever. She remembered that too? The kiss. Part of me would like to ask which she remembered first. The kiss or that disastrous promise I'd never be able to keep. But I don't ask. I can't.

"Then I'll just remind you."

That's the last thing I say that means anything at all before I wrap my arms around her just like last time. Except this time… _she_ kisses _me_. I memorize the feelings of her hands on my face all over again. It feels better than the prospect of seeing Earth. It covers over a year of heartache. It covers over everything and everyone I've ever lost in my life. This is what I've been waiting on. Home.

I never realized how tired I was of simply waiting for this moment. I have been as patient as a saint, content to be a friend, a supporting character in an unfinished holo-novel. Someone that is never there permanently, but ready at the slightest sign of being needed.

I finally realize how much I have been hurting.

Having already almost cried once today, I refuse to do so again, so I break the kiss but I don't step away.

While we were talking earlier the doctor had been oh so kind as to touch a place on his forehead to demonstrate from me where he'd take this inconsequential brain tissue from B'Elanna. That is the spot I kiss next. I feel her hands go to my upper arms to try and push me away out of embarrassment for things that are naturally a part of her. I refuse to be deterred and kiss the spot again, then move my forehead to hers just like the last time.

I suppose she knows it's pointless to run. She leans into my embrace, our foreheads still touching. I memorize the warm feeling of the ridges. Some part of me feels them against my chest, brushing against the side of my breast, against my stomach…my thighs.

Suddenly, sickbay is on fire.

Before a ship wide fire suppression system kicks on, I kiss her cheek, moving a step back, praying that my face isn't as red as it feels. That would be so un-captain like. Yet, today I am not a captain at all, remember?

Before we can say or do anything else, the doctor and Kes arrive, thinking we've had enough time.

B'Elanna, with as much composer as she can muster, lies down on the surgical bed and squeezes my hand tightly. It's only when the doctor administers something to put her to sleep that her grip lessens—but mine does not.

 **Chapter Four**

The procedure takes an hour exactly. The doctor moves straight from B'Elanna to the Denara that is being kept in stasis. For this part, the holographic Denara does help him. Thankfully, they are out of eyesight.

The last thing I need for B'Elanna to see when she wakes up is not one, but two Vidiians in sickbay.

My right hand is numb. My shoulders and back are screaming with tension. But I will not let her go. Everything went fine. Her recovery will be so short that she'll be able to sleep in her own quarters tonight—but I can't say that I've sat here in ease. I've been scared to death all day. Scared _of_ death…all day.

A cup of coffee is pressed into my left hand. Darling, Kes. My savior.

"Thank you, Kes." I murmur in-between sips. She pats my shoulder, or so I think. It's a hypo spray. Once she's done, I jerk away. "What did you just give me?" I question her like we're in the middle of disciplinary hearing and I'm instantly sorry for it.

"Captain," Kes begins in that gentle way that still causes me to see her as a child, regardless of her maturity. "It's an anti-inflammatory. The way you've been sitting… I know you must be hurting."

Shaking my head, I give her an apologetic look. "You're right, Kes. I apologize. It's been quite a day."

She looks at me intently before replying, as if she's trying to weigh the risk of the words. The risk is well worth it. "It's been quite a year, hasn't it?" She nods towards B'Elanna then me. She knows. From her look I can tell she knows perhaps not the depths of B'Elanna hardships, but certainly seems to know the depth of pain this has caused me in some way or other. She knows I have been aching for the return of my own feelings where B'Elanna is concerned.

Before I can comment, Kes tosses the biggest hover ball into my court.

"B'Elanna can stay in her quarters tonight, but she really shouldn't be alone. In case there are complications or she needs anything."

I know this is a lie.

The doctor could easily slap one of those monitors to B'Elanna's forehead and keep an eye on her right from his office. But no… Kes has given us an excuse to be together tonight. The only thing we need right now is to simply _be_ together. To put ourselves back together after the trauma of the day. And we can't do that in separate rooms. Not after all this; all these feelings have been laid bare. And, anyway, doesn't B'Elanna have something to tell me? I _know_ I've got something to tell her.

Like it's nothing, I say, "I'll see that she's not alone tonight. That's no problem."

Kes grins a little harder than necessary but how can I blame her?

Just then, I feel B'Elanna's hold on my hand increase. Significantly. I hurriedly hand the coffee back to Kes and stand on stiff legs. Thankfully, they move without too much protest and I'm within her sight in no time smoothing her hair back from her face. She's still holding tightly to my hand. Of course, I haven't let go.

"You're here." I reassure her first thing. "On the ship. I'm here…we're all here. You're safe. Absolutely safe. I didn't even mess up your ship."

Her voice is a hoarse whisper but I can still make it out. "You were here the whole time. So if anyone fucked it up, it's Carey. I ought to break that bastard's nose again."

I laugh. Deeply.

"Well, it seems our patient is back to her old self." The doctor swoops in with too happy a voice to suit me.

"And I ought to reprogram you," she lifts a weak arm and points in his general direction. The doctor swoops back out with a deep frown on his face.

I continue to laugh.

Within a few minutes it seems that she's gone back to sleep. I'm not worried about this in the least until she starts talking again, eyes still closed.

"It's Jonas. He's the one talking the Kazon's… I know it. And I know you're using Tom."

I sit down hard in the chair, still holding her hand. She's not supposed to know about this. Tuvok, Tom and I have been carefully trying to figure out who's behind these secret communications for quite a while now. Poor Chakotay is in the dark but it is for his own good and the good of the plan. It wouldn't work any other way. For the culprit to grow more comfortable there's got to be contention on the ship in some form. A growing rift between Tom and Chakotay is the best bait imaginable.

But how does B'Elanna know?

I lean in enough to be talking without anyone else hearing me. "I don't know how you know; but please shut your mouth. That is top secret, B'Elanna. You can't say a word about this. To anyone."

Not once do I bring Jonas back into the conversation. I don't want to know how she knows. We suspect he is in fact the traitor but I can't work solely based on B'Elanna's drug induced suspicions.

The matter seems to be dropped. She sleeps for a bit more, then demands socks. What a patient she makes. But this thrills me. The last time she was in sickbay, like this, she was screaming in pain and had to be sedated once again. So this, demanding socks and blurting out top secret intel, is infinitely better.

It takes a while but I figure out how to call up B'Elanna's replicator selections in sickbay. No plain socks will do. When her Klingon DNA was reinserted back into her system, a few of those Klingon traits she did _not_ have before, became known. The prominent ridges down the length of the tops of her feet, being one of them.

Together, we went through several designs of socks and boots before coming up with something she could live with.

Socks acquired, I lift the blanket to put them on her. And of course, she protests. I quickly point out she's too weak to do it. She gives me that same look of shame. Still, she is self-conscious about all the things that make her who she is.

This must stop. Right now.

I drop the socks and go back around to take her hand. Leaning down into her ear, I admit to it all.

"B'Elanna, I love you. Klingon, Human, half Klingon. I love you. So…get over yourself and let me put these socks on you."

Unexpectedly, she turns her head away just as I am about to kiss her. "Fine," she huffs, "put the socks on."

I go back to the sock project. My face has hardened just a bit. Not out of anger but out of once again realizing that sometimes my kindness is taken as if I'm saying that she is weak. It doesn't happen as often as it used to. But it's there, like now, waiting in the wings, ultimately spreading its' self around us, causing far more sadness than need be. Apparently, I have some things to get over too.

Even with the socks on, her feet are like ice. I put the blanket back over them but stay there at the end of the bed, rubbing her feet, trying to get some warmth back into them.

"You _must_ love me if you're rubbing my feet." She quips.

I say nothing.

Let her be in an awful mood all she wants. Besides, I half expect it's the drugs she was given.

As I continue to rub her feet, B'Elanna finds it within herself to start talking like a lucid and decent person.

With a deep breath beforehand, she says the words I've needed to hear for a very, very long time. Words that I've needed to hear to know this wasn't one-sided. To know that my nearness wasn't a crutch for her to lean on. To know that my feelings were not inconsequential.

"I love you, Kathryn."

She isn't looking away anymore, but right into my eyes. I've stopped rubbing her feet but I still have my hands there; I am momentarily stuck in this spot, trying to memorize it just like I memorized the feeling of our foreheads touching and the taste of her lips.

More importantly, this is only the second time she's said my name.

 _Kathryn._

Only the second time…

The sound of my name, and the love she speaks of, is like a piece of music I'll never get tired of hearing.

 **The End.**

As many of you know, I have not written anything in years. Be gentle. Review if you wish. It is much appreciated.

And finally, there is one specific area of my life I've come to realize is the absolute definition of 'neither here nor there'. Sad as it may seem and as much time as I wasted...it's done now. And I know I am better off. Or so I hope... Time will tell.


End file.
